


The King

by aureliu_s



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: A little rushed, F/M, My OC - Freeform, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), happens before thanos shows up, sad but fluffy, she's actually a norse goddess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 11:06:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14400858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aureliu_s/pseuds/aureliu_s
Summary: After Ragnarok, Thor is spent. Can't the world save itself once in a while?





	The King

**Author's Note:**

> In honor of the world premiere of Infinity War which takes place TOMORROW, I wrote just a little idea I've had for a while concerning Thor and my Norse goddess OC Syn. This takes place before both the cutscenes.

A little, exhausted smile crossed Thor’s lips--the first genuine one he had conjured up since Asgard had been demolished right before his eyes. Or eye. For now he would have to humor himself with the little jokes he could pull--like that one--before the whole of the Asgardian people settled in, and then he would find a way to make this floating tub a home.

He back ached from where Hela stabbed him, though he couldn’t say he was a stranger to stab wounds anymore. The slice across his abdomen had turned stretching and any type of abdominal movement into a real problem. Without his right eye he felt almost like a newborn babe, stumbling into doorways and miscalculating steps. Loki laughed at him but he took it in stride and with a grin on his face, determined to learn however Director Fury had managed with half his vision while overseeing the security of an entire planet.

The room he had claimed, or rather been given, had previously belonged someone important. It was spacious and nicely decorated, and had an adjacent bathroom. He was no longer circumspect about orgies or anything of the like; this seemed to be like a cargo ship with some parts redesigned to hold passengers. The remainder of Asgard had plenty of space and plenty of supplies, which was one outcome he was not expecting.

For now, his attention focused on a spotless white bath, steam rolling quietly off the surface of the water, and the woman inside it, concealed by mounds of bubbles.

Ragnarok had taken his hammer, his father, his eye, and his homeworld, and he could almost hear Stark commenting on how that was quite the mental baggage. But he understood it all, maybe except for the loss of his hammer, and in the short time they had been on the ship he had come to terms with most of it. Syn, however, faced different matters. 

Eir and Tyr were her older siblings, both of them, and the trio had been together ever since Syn’s birth. A goddess of healing and patience, a god of glorious combat with only one hand, and a goddess of justice. Quite the group. Eir, like her younger sister, was a handmaiden of Thor’s mother, Frigga, though Syn abandoned the post to become a guard of the palace, later ascending to captain. Tyr’s counsel was highly valued by Odin, as both gods seemed to be of the same age, and he vaguely remembered being entranced as a boy by Tyr’s tale of how he lost his hand. Though they were all of the Ӕsir, Eir and Syn were also of the Asynjur, the goddesses, led by Frigga. 

But that was where his knowledge of Syn’s family ended, and he knew now they were both dead.

With a grunt he placed himself down on the floor beside the tub, placing his hands flat on the rounded rim and his chin on his wrist.   
“You have such pretty hair,  _ kjaere _ .” Her silence was not at all surprising, and her eyes remained closed. Thor extended his fingers to coil a wet strand of brown around them. “Perhaps I should make a wig out of it.”

At this, her pink lips curled up into a smile and she looked at him, enervated but awake all the same. “Maybe they’ll let me be a Valkyrie then.” He chuckled and let the strand go, brushing his hand against the water’s surface. Hot, relaxing, smelling vaguely of fresh earth and...apples.

With his gaze and thoughts lost in the water--doing nothing more than proving his drained state--he barely noticed her move, until her arms were around his neck. 

“I’m glad it’s over.”

He was silent for a moment, relishing in the wet warmth that encased his head and shoulders, the water dripping down his arms leaving clean trails like tears. 

“Me too.”

They sat like that for a moment, her fingers massaging into his scalp until he was practically drooling on her shoulder. 

“Syn,” he groaned, “don’t make me fall asleep here, that’s cruel. The bed’s over there.”

She smiled against his ear, moving her hands to grab his cuirass and pull him forward.

“Then sleep in here.”

Her voice still lacked its usual firm bounce, her eyes still not glittering brown as he remembered, but he couldn’t say he blamed her. If it weren’t for his last-minute moment of clarity on the Bifrost he would share her emotions, or be buried even deeper in them. 

He placed his palms against the rim to push away, but her hold remained and she tugged him back hard enough that he wobbled and fell with as little grace possible into the tub beside her. He was sure half the water must’ve splashed out.    
“Gross,  _ kjaere _ , I’m covered in dirt and blood.” He whined, kicking his boots off hastily before they had the chance to become submerged and pulling at his cuirass.   
“Enough to probably clog the hole where your eye used to be,” she snickered quietly, smiling against the glare he sent from the side of his peripheral. Tugging off his cuirass was harder than he expected, especially now that it was cut and he was wet, it had a tendency to stick.

He debated trying to wrestle with pants; the same kind of leather, now soaked through, but he stripped them off anyway.

Thor sank back in an ambiance of bliss, one arm situating itself around his lover. The water was warm against his skin and urged the tension in his muscles to subside, turning the irritation from his wounds to a dull tingling.   
“Don’t electrocute us,” she murmured, nuzzling her face into the joint of his neck and shoulder.    
“You’ll have to get me angry to do that,” he smiled, “like a Norse Hulk.” Ragnarok was done; Earth was their course; it seemed as if he could finally rest. With his arms wound around her waist, he finally let his eyes close.

Or eye.

**Author's Note:**

> kjaere: Norwegian for "sweetheart" or "dear" (unless google translate failed me again)  
> WHO ELSE IS EXCITED FOR INFINITY WAR? DO YOU GUYS HAVE PLANS TO SEE IT? I know I'm going to wear my Avengers socks Monday and Friday for when it comes into theaters :)


End file.
